Nuclear Euphemisms
by Schyzotypal X
Summary: Gazille scowls as his view of the sweet little book worm is blocked by EVERYONE ELSE IN THE GUILD, once again getting themselves in what looks to be a right merry clusterfuck of DOOM-slight GazilleLevi-oneshot


Spring break just started and I'm bored out of my skull.

So I wrote a nice little Fairy Tail fic for your enjoyment!

Enjoy!

Or Else.

* * *

**Nuclear Euphemisms  
**

Gazille often wonders how he ended up here. Like this.

God knows he hate it more than he's hated anything.

Ever.

Plus, the guild is slowly but surely encroaching on his already rather sadistic sanity and he realizes that with every fiber of his poor being. Yet, here he is, sitting on a too small bar stool and wishing to hell that Elfman would just shut the fuck up about how manly everything must be.

Heck, the only thing keeping him from ripping off the genitalia of the big fat macho man himself is the fact that he's in the view of the only person who displays even an ounce of reason other than himself.

It's that Levi chick doing what looks to be an honest to God _frolic_ across with room her two idiot friends with the deprived fashion sense following close behind. From what he knows already, they're probably hoping that infallible skirt of hers will finally succumb to physics and just fucking _flip_ _up_ already.

Gazille takes a bite out of some form of food, brooding over how sad it is that such a sweet innocent girl could find herself in the company of such greasy, disgusting perverted men.

He's totally not wishing for the skirt to flip up too, no surrey.

A scowl mars his pierced visage as Gazille's view of the sweet little book worm is blocked by EVERYONE ELSE IN THE GUILD, once again getting themselves in what looks to be a right merry clusterfuck of DOOM.

Gazille leans as far back as he can to get away from them(and their stench), taking another gulp from the tankard of what he prays to all the heavenly forces above to be beer (deep down he knows that's it's probably just dirty dishwater with fermented sweat socks mixed in). In any case, it's alcoholic (it can't _not _be with the way everyone acts around here). So beer or not he takes another heavy swig as The Infamous Lucy's top once **again** bursts into flames.

"Vicoty!" Natsu shouts, sliding across the bar, his ass cheerily aflame while Lucy screams bloody murder and tries to throw a shoe at him.

It doesn't get very far, only bouncing off the forehead Gazille had the good sense to turn into steal a few seconds earlier. He growls and Lucy stomps her foot (he swears she honestly did, cross his hear), screaming at him for blocking her way instead of fucking _apologizing_ for hitting him with her formidable stiletto.

He wouldn't have to take this crap back at Phantom, a dark little rational part of him whispers.

"Yeah." He agrees, drawing the attention of no one in particular.

Assisting the already steady degrasion of his unstable mind, Gazille takes another heavy gulp his drugged up dishwater and watches with amusement as Lucy grinds Grey's overly abused face into the burning embers of what used to be her shirt. Almost as if she believes that his face will extinguish the flames better than ice, part of him notes amusedly. Hmmm….

He files the thought away in some dark crevice of brain for further study. Later on, when everyone has finally gotten too drunk to stay conscious or have finally gotten sober enough to leave, he'll conduct some harebrained experiment on the idea (hopefully resulting in an explosion).

He scowls and he's brought out of his scientifical thoughts by Lucy's rather girlish shrieking at Happy, who has of course decided take the opportunity Natsu ever so kindly gave him to pounce upon Lucy's exposed breasts with all the force of his blue winged cat/dragon/THING body. The yellow headed dumbass shrieks again, her attempts of removing the cat only causing him to dig in his upsettingly sharp claws.

Poor, poor dumb Lucy.

Gazille shakes his head a bit as the excessively dumb blonde screams again, leaping bouncily about in the hopes of dislodging her winged companion. Charred flakes of her shirt scatter about as she gives every man (and some women, he's on to Erza. He knows the score) a right good show. Gazille grunts, resisting the urge to use the protruding spikes of his ϋber mullet to block a rather satisfied looking Natsu's view of what he has dubbed to be Lucy's Boobilicous Dance of Death.

"But that would be cruel", his shoulder Angel keens loudly into his ear, "after all, he's earned it".

Gazille nods dully, recognizing the truly great feat of getting pasts Loki's satanic chastity defenses long enough to do anything to Lucy's top, much less set it on fire.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he says vaguely, glaring at what looks to be a finger bone floating rather distressingly about at the bottom of his tankard.

Pinky if his limited knowledge of the human anatomy is correct.

"It's unmanly to stare at damsels in distress you know."

Gazille sighs, looking up from his disturbingly disgusting drink and into beefy cromagnum face of his all time favorite manly man of manly manliness, Elfman. The bastards come to bitch at him some more, and of course, block his near perfect view of Lucy's last stand of boobery. His mouth moves to form a rather dullard combination words, blathering on and on about being manly and liking it in the ass from men with hairy bums.

"And Lucy's a respectable girl wit-"

Blathering. Blathering.

Gazille just leans even farther back (which is a miracle in itself seeing as he's nearly parallel with the floor already) and catches the last bit of Lucy's little cat claw jig from over Elfbitch's shoulder, taking another sip of the dishwater beer he's sure that Mirajane has filled to the brim with arsenic.

If his taste buds don't deceive him, she probably peed in it too, just for good measure. But he doesn't mind because by now he's built up a resistance to poison just by eating her crappy food every day.

"Ohh, burn",his shoulder devil pops up to congratulate him.

It's knocked away by Luvia, who, ludicrously drunk off of her half glass of tomato juice, jumps upon Grey with the strength that only an extremely horney woman such as herself can come to possess. Elfman crumples as she bangs him in the temple with one her terribly perilous cowboy death boots. He lands in a drooling heap nearbye, much to the distaste of Gazille and the distress of food poisoning Mirajane.

Before Gazille can even come close to addressing that problem though, the two would-be lovers tumble backwards over Elfman, hanging rather ominously just over him. Luvia all the while shrieking her rabid love for the hapless Grey as she struggles to undo the torturous belt buckle he's fastened so damn tightly around his waist.

Of course, Natsu takes this as Grey picking a fight and manages to peel his eyes off a now blushing Lucy(who's trying and failing miserably to cover herself with Happy's winged body) long enough to leap forward climactically, ass once more aflame and ready to shoot ten foot infernos of death at any innocent bystanders he hasn't burnt to a crisp already.

Grey looks up, growling as he tries in vain to freeze Luvia's hands together long enough so that she'll stop trying to drop his (designer) pants.

Gazille grimaces, downing the rest of his drink as he watches the two manly lovebirds begin to yell at each other.

The wedding will be so nice, he muses to himself, rocking back on his bar stool. Grey will probably have some kind of _beautiful_ all white gown with an empress neckline if his fashion sense is worth anything, and Natsu wouldn't work anything without a short skirt and gloves…

Did he mention that they're all still tipping backwards towards him, now at a rather alarming rate.

And suddenly Levi's back, coming out of motherfucking nowhere, frolicking along towards him, her dickless entourage still in toe. She's holding out her newest book of enjoyment, smiling brightly at HIM, Gazille, the poor bastard she's chosen to be her new reading buddy of rainbow friendship.

A part of him dies on the inside as he considers the sparkling prospect, and Gazille can't help but wonder at how she can be so clearly and blatantly oblivious to the madness around her.

Just as she skips right up in front of him, Luvia finally succeeds in the dropping of Grey's pants with Erza somehow getting in on the action in a very Erza way. This also happens to be the place in time where Natsu has stopped beating Grey long enough to attempt to burn through a screeching Lucy's bra. And Happy,-loins aflame-, seizes the day once again and attaches himself quite firmly to her chest (which is now, literally,ON FIRE).

And suddenly they all tip backwards, a flaming, stripping, evil tower of horrors coming towards him at sixty miles per hour.

A few seconds and a thousand dirty words later and the dust clears, showing off Luvia, getting her spurting nosebleed all over the now pantless Grey. With top deprived Lucy crying, Natsu's scarf wrapped around her bare chest. At this point, Natsu probably would have tried to burn that off too, but he's too busy holding an affronted Happy, whose tale is guaranteed, ten times crispier than it was two minutes ago.

They're all on top of him by the way, but Gazille can't care less, because Levi just happened to have landed in the most perfect of compromising positions on top of him during the little tumble fest of doom.

Someone whistles and Levi blushes wildly while her two bitchy little fashion consultant fall to the floor and _seize_. Gazille says nothing, only ever so graciously accepting the best panty shot of his life, thanking the God's for this one moment where her infallible evil little mini-skirt finally obeys the laws of science.

Only one word comes to mind at this moment as his rather observant vision perceives the design that covers the entirety of Levi's underpants. He speaks without thinking, his voice teasing and all to smug.

"Teddy bears?"

Levi blushes even harder, raising the sizeable tome she's holding above her head with a purpose.

Gazille never knew a girl could hit that hard.

Ever.

* * *

I hope Gazille can find consolation in the fact that most girls don't keep a hardcover copy of the Encyclopedia Britannica handy with them for just such Gazille related situations.


End file.
